Five Years and Still At It
by Duo'sTeijo
Summary: This one got my friends pretty mad at me. It's for Sarafu. So, enjoy!


Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish I did, I don't own anyone in this story. So sue me. Enjoy! --Duo's_Teijo   
Five Years and Still At It  
  
Sarafu walked toward the Winner mansion. It wasn't that far, but she was late getting home, so she was kind of in a hurry. It was  
kind of chilly that day. She pulled her coat tighter and looked at her watch. 3:20. She was later than she could remember being for a long time.   
Spotting an alleyway, she pulled in, not listening to her gut instinct but instead to her watch.  
  
She was so occupied thinking about getting home that she didn't notice a tall, wiry figure sitting on a dumpster nearby. It almost blended in with   
the shadows perfectly. She didn't even know it was there until it chuckled, jumped down behind her, and shoved a cloth in front of her face.  
  
"MMph!" Sarafu tried to yell, but the person's grip was just too strong. The pungent odor of the cloth leaked into her sinuses. Within a few   
seconds, she was as limp as a rag doll and twice as unconscious. Her attacker picked her up like a small child, gently laid her on the back seat  
of the car he'd come in, and drove away.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Quatre sat on the sofa and looked at the clock again. 3:40. Where could Sarafu be? She'd never been home that late before. He sighed and  
leaned back. She'd be home. One way or another, she always showed up.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The fog of the chloroform slowly wore off her mind. She was sitting in a chair and her feet were asleep. She looked down. Her ankles were tied   
to the legs of the chair, but her hands were free. Not a very smart kidnapper, she thought, and leaned forward to untie herself.  
  
"That's not a good idea."  
  
Sarafu turned. A young man no older than Quatre was standing there. He was wearing a black turtleneck, black jeans, and a black hat. No  
wonder she hadn't seen him. He looked up, revealing sunglasses that completely hid his eyes. She gasped - he also had a gun, pointed directly  
at her.  
  
"Tying up pretty girls just isn't my style, but I had to think of some way to keep you from leaving. Besides, you don't have a clue where you are,   
nor do you know how to get home." He twirled the gun around his finger like in old Western movies. "Now if I'm not mistaken, you're pretty close  
with a blonde guy named Quatre Raberba Winner?" he said, leaning calmly against a few crates and not stopping the rotation of the gun  
around his finger.  
  
"Quatre?" she asked nervously. "The heir to the Winner Corporation?"  
  
"You're changing the subject!" His voice was low and just a tiny bit raspy. It was more intimidating than his attire and his firearm. "I asked if   
you're close with him. Are you?"  
  
Sarafu bowed her head. "Yes."  
  
"Right. I thought so." The man holstered the gun and picked up a cell phone. "I think I have his number right here." He produced a slip of paper  
from someplace, then dialed a number.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Quatre was worried. Where was she? It was almost 4:00 now, and she still wasn't home. Where in the world -  
  
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the telephone ringing. He jumped to answer it. "Hello?"  
  
The voice on the other end sounded low and vaguely evil. It also sounded quite familiar… "Hello. Would this by any chance be Quatre   
Raberba Winner?"  
  
"Yes, that's me," he replied, a little confused.  
  
"I think I have something that you want, Mr. Winner. Tell me, have you ever met a girl by the name of Sarafu Missheru?"  
  
"Sarafu!" Quatre's heart skipped. "Where is she?"  
  
"I thought so. She's right here."  
  
Quatre's eyes widened a little. "You… kidnapped her?"  
  
"Took you long enough. We're at Pier 14. It's not far from there. I'm in a good mood today, so I'm not gonna ask for any money. If you come,   
I'll let you take her home."  
  
He sighed in relief.  
  
"The catch is, you have to come alone and unarmed. And this is just our little secret, remember. I wouldn't let anyone else in on it, if I were you.   
Because I just happen to have an everyday, ordinary little revolver here…"  
  
Quatre gasped. "You touch one hair on her head…"  
  
"My friend, I have no intention of twisting stapling or mutilating anyone today. Just come. Alone, and unarmed, and you can sure as hell have  
her."  
  
"I'll come all right."  
  
"Quatre, don't!" It was Sarafu's voice this time. "I can make it!"  
  
"Sarafu!"  
  
He heard the sound of a slap. It was almost sickening. "Shut up. He's coming or you get whatever I happened to load this thing with."  
  
Quatre gasped again. "No!"  
  
"You've got half an hour, Mr. Winner. That's ample time to get over here, I think."  
  
"I'm coming." Quatre's eyes narrowed. "I'll be there." He hung up the phone, threw on a coat, and started running toward the piers.  
  
*~*~*  
  
"I wouldn't be trying to untie myself if I were you." The man was fingering his gun. "I wouldn't want my kidnapper to use a certain small firearm   
he happens to have with him."  
  
"I can make it on my own! There's no need to bring Quatre into this!" Sarafu kept trying to loosen the bonds on her ankles, but they were done   
up very well.  
  
She heard a bang and felt a strong little breeze across the back of her hand, and looked up. The man was blowing a small poof of smoke   
away from the end of his pistol. "I've still got five shots left. I really don't want to have to use any of them."  
  
Sarafu realized that a few millimeters closer and he would have nailed her right in the back of the hand. "You bastard!"  
  
The man sat back in the chair he was in across a card table from her. "Maybe I am. I wouldn't know. But I don't think you would, either." He   
sounded perfectly calm. "Heh. Kind of ironic, isn't it?"  
  
"What's ironic?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. Maybe if you're a good girl, I'll tell you later." He pushed the barrel of the gun against her neck directly below her chin. "Be a good   
girl for me, won't you now?"  
  
Sarafu seethed with rage.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The half hour was almost up when Quatre arrived at Pier 14. It wasn't much to look at, really, just a couple of warehouses and a dock. Still   
gasping for breath, Quatre cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "I'm here! Where is she?" His voice echoed off of the warehouses and  
the ocean.   
  
A young man dressed in black from head to toe emerged from one of the warehouses. "She's right inside. There's really no need to yell."  
  
Quatre's gut immediately told him that the voice belonged to someone he used to know, but who? The man turned around to go back inside   
and get Sarafu. His hair was no longer than Quatre's own. That ruled out one suspect. He quickly emerged from the warehouse with a   
completely unharmed Sarafu, to Quatre's relief.  
  
"Master Quatre!" she shouted. She ran over to him and hugged him like she hadn't seen him in a week. He hugged her back, but said:  
  
"We made a deal. I'm going to hold up my end of it now." With that, he released her and walked toward the mystery man in black.  
  
Sarafu reached after him, but he kept walking. "No, Quatre, please don't!" Her eyes started watering. Quatre didn't look back - just kept walking.  
  
He reached the man quickly. "Well, here I am."  
  
The man nodded. "You held up your end of the deal. So few people do that these days."  
  
"Stop the talking. What do you want with me?"  
  
"Not much. I just wanted to see if Quatre Raberba Winner was still as decent a man as he's always been."  
  
Quatre's eyes narrowed. "You kidnapped Sarafu just to investigate my morality? If you're going to stoop to that level, you don't have a lot of   
that quality yourself."  
  
"Hey, hey, don't get wordy and all with me."  
  
His eyes narrowed even more. "Then I'll keep it short. Who do you think you are?"  
  
"You really want to know?"  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"All right, then." The man reached behind his neck and pulled something out of his collar. It fluttered out like an Easter streamer, then gently   
came to rest on his back. Quatre and Sarafu were both incredibly shocked - it was nothing short of a three-and-a-half foot-long… braid. He   
pulled his sunglasses down to reveal big, cobalt-blue eyes.  
  
Sarafu almost fell over in shock. "DUO?!?"  
  
So did Quatre. "Duo Maxwell?!"  
  
He tossed his gun in the air, deftly caught it, and pointed it at Quatre, handle first. "Here."  
  
"Duo, what did you think you were doing?" Quatre asked in disbelief as he took the gun.  
  
"Well, it *has* been five years since I last heard from you."  
  
"You *could* have not gone and scared us like that!"  
  
Sarafu was too angry to talk. She simply stormed over to Duo, grabbed his braid, and yanked reeeeeeeeally hard. Duo howled in pain and  
the instant she let go, bent over and rubbed the back of his head. "Ow… guess I deserved that…"  
  
"You most certainly did deserve it, Duo!" Sarafu screamed.  
  
"Heh-heh…"  
  
"And you deserve this, too!" she yelled, uppercutting him in the stomach as hard as she could. Duo doubled over and fell onto the pavement.  
  
"Nice seeing you again… Quatre…" he moaned, half-conscious.  
  
"Nice seeing you too, Duo… I guess."  
  
"Hmph!" Sarafu said, then walked away towards home.  
  
"Oh Sarafu…" Quatre shook his head, then helped Duo to his feet. "Come on, it's gonna snow soon."  
  
"Yeah… snow." Duo leaned heavily on Quatre's shoulder. "Do you have an ice pack handy? Ow…"  
  
*~*~*  
  
END!  
---  
  
So, what do y'all think of the meanest practical joke that Duo could ever play on anyone? 


End file.
